


Pomegranate

by EmmaAndKeyboard



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), the red book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaAndKeyboard/pseuds/EmmaAndKeyboard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight Car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pomegranate

**longing ******

Longing should be for Stevie, but it isn't. Steve is written so deeply into him. 

No, oddly enough, the one thing he longs for is the most miserable thing from before. He does not long for the trenches (he's still in them). He longs for a rifle in his hands, the kickback against his shoulder. Guns used to be his own. He chose to fire, in contrast with plenty of men who let their guns hang limply at their sides. The sharp crack against his ear was the only sound in the cacophony that was his. He used to pick up his own weapon. Now it is handed to him.

******rusted**** **

have

          you

                    ever

                              watched

                                               your

                                                            limb

                                                                          corrode

**********seventeen ********** ** **

The doctors said it was unlikely Steve was going to make it to eighteen. He would live in their memories forever at five foot even with a boy's grin. Sarah Rogers pulled Bucky aside in May the summer Steve was supposed to turn seventeen and warned him things were looking badly. She didn't bother to hush her voice.

By the time July rolled around Steve hadn't pulled a deep breath in weeks. Sarah worked odd nights because money was getting impossibly tighter. The night before Independence Day, Bucky bundled himself into Steve's bed. He was exhausted and cranky, but not nearly as clouded over as Steve. The second hand ticked past midnight. When he finally noticed he said the dumbest damned thing in his entire life.

"Happy birthday. Seventeen's good enough, you know."

They stared at each other. There was no betrayal between them. Steve, who hadn't heard a hushed voice about his health in years, understood. That stupid, stubborn little bastard held Bucky's gaze, still shivering, until the moment passed.

**************daybreak ********** ** ** ** **

nothing in this world will ever be as dear to him as the mornings he woke squinting on a tenement roof to the dew and hue of morning

sometimes with a gal

sometimes alone

******************furnace**** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

_He that soweth the good seed is the Son of man; the field is the world; the good seed are the children of the kingdom; but the tares are the children of the wicked one; the enemy that sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the world; and the reapers are the angels. As therefore the tares are gathered and burned in the fire; so shall it be in the end of this world. The Son of man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which do iniquity; and shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth._

**********************nine ******** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The number of heads he used to count. His two little sisters and seven little cousins. So many shoes to buckle and names to run through his head. May, Agnes, Becca, John, Richard, Elizabeth, Dorothy, Ray, Charlie. Don't forget to watch out for the little ones, or ma will tan your hide, James Buchanan.

**benign**

He used to threaten punk kids on the street with half-hearted words. He is very empty now, but his threats can no longer be.

******************************homecoming**** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

sometimes it is the statue of liberty the new colossus who steve drew once on a bench across the river while bucky laid out in the sun and he missed the sketching part but he always lifted his head to watch the final details and it was a clear day so steve got the folds of the robe right and everything his bum eyes couldn't see they filled in with bucky's words and the stories from their parents who once saw her closer, the way she is meant to be seen, from a boat in the fog and the fear of night

but sometimes it is the bitter bite of victory day in times square, some young gal getting swept off her feet while he is being dragged through the alps, bleeding out and steve g. rogers is d e a d

**********************************one**** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

the going rate of steve's heart pills

when things got dicey

he made it into a joke

all I need is one buck

and one Buck

************************************ ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

 

 

(The words don't mean anything to him anymore. They are a code someone once used to crack his brain open. Their purpose has faded into a work-up, a swing of the arm in preparation for what's coming-

**************************************freight car ********** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

-has always served the same purpose.

The bottom drops out from under him.)


End file.
